


The Worst Thing...

by TriaKane



Category: Leverage
Genre: Dubious Consent, Episode: s03e15 The Big Bang Job, F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-11
Updated: 2015-07-11
Packaged: 2018-04-08 19:09:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,468
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4316373
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TriaKane/pseuds/TriaKane
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes the worst thing you've done, isn't the worst thing that happened to you</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Worst Thing...

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to Lyn for the beta and Tarryn for the alpha. You both made this story so much better. :)

“Who the hell are you?” the guard asked with that subtle hint of intimidation that came with carrying a gun and having backup. 

“Me? I’m Eliot Spencer.”

The guard’s voice shook when he spoke again.

“Open the door. This way.”

It was good to know my name and reputation were still enough to open doors but I couldn’t focus on that, I had to keep my head straight.

Hardison babbled away beside me ( _why’d you tell them your real name, Eliot?_ ) but it wasn’t the time or place to answer. I was leading us head first into hell and there were only ten more seconds before the elevator doors opened. I felt the old me warring with the new me. _Aw, what the fuck am I doing?_

“Look, just stick close to me, okay? This might get messy,” I said quietly.

As we passed the first guard, he pulled his weapon and I schooled myself into not reacting. They were just reacting to a threat. I’m that threat. 

Chapman... of all people. He was there in those last days before it all became too much and I walked away. 

He stood up and we were nose to nose.

“Chapman.” I tried to keep the antipathy from my voice and expression.

“Eliot.” His dislike of me was obvious.

It’d been five years and he was still trying to be the big dog, especially then, in front of the men he leads. He was always a small man who tried too hard to act like a big one.

“They gave you the job?”

“There was an opening,” he sneered.

Translated, that means he told Moreau whatever he wanted to hear after I left.

The steam room door opened and the air in the room changed. Not just because of the escaping steam, but because Damien Moreau had just stepped out. I felt my heart pound in my chest. _What the fuck am I doing here?_

“That’s no way to treat an old friend.” He smiled that viper smile of his that I knew so well. He’s at his most dangerous when he’s calm and calculating. 

“Damien.” I addressed him familiarly, hoping to disarm him a bit, remind him of the years of loyal service.

“Let’s catch up,” he said, and I know I’ve bought a little time.

Two of his men patted Hardison down, but none approached me, which I took as a sign of respect, and didn’t acknowledge. Hardison was forced into an office chair and then handcuffed to it. 

“You call this a plan,” Hardison whispered.

“I’m not handcuffed to anything,” I replied under my breath.

I heard him grunt but I couldn’t focus too much on him. I knew he could take care of himself in most situations but this is so far apart from most situations. 

“You work alone,” Moreau said as he poured a drink.

“Things change.” I didn’t elaborate, I didn’t need to.

Walking over to us, Moreau took a seat across from Hardison.

“Don’t take it personally. It takes me a while to warm up to people.”

That was for my benefit. It took him three months before I was allowed to do more than stand guard.

One of the women approached carrying a tray, but I didn’t react.

“He prefers beer,” Moreau supplied.

He remembered. Remembered sipping his bourbons and vodkas while I sampled local beers from the various places we visited. Remembered when he stocked my favorites on his jet and yacht. 

“This one of your retrieval jobs, Eliot? Tell me, whose Snoopy lunchbox do I have?” he asked snidely.

“It’s not a retrieval. I’m escorting the middleman. I’m contracted to make sure he gets in—and out—with the offer.” 

I tried to act like it was just a job. 

Hardison began to speak with his flawless French accent. “Pardon. Monsieur, my client has heard what you’re selling and would like to acquire the Ram’s Horn.”

“And your client is…” 

“I—if you indulge us with the details of the auction, we can make a bid, all will be revealed. I assure you we are working in good faith.”

“I’m sure you are. I’m sure you are. But I don’t know you.”

_Oh, shit._

Moreau looked at me.

“I do know you. We could talk.”

“I ain’t much on talking, Moreau,” I said, hoping I’m reading him wrong. 

“Okay. Let’s keep it short.”

Moreau stood suddenly and kicked Hardison’s chair into the pool.

I willed myself not to flinch. I knew what he was gonna do. Hell, I invented that move. _Don’t react. Don’t react. Don’t react._

“Whoa!” I heard Hardison exclaim as the chair hit the water.

“I’m sure you told your clients I don’t do business with strangers.”

_Stay calm._

“That’s why I’m here—to vouch for them.”

I was counting the seconds in my head. Fifteen seconds.

“Oh, a little vague.”

He was fucking testing me. Twenty-five seconds.

“I never told anybody about you. I use the same confidentiality with all my clients.” I felt my anger building but I had to push it down. 

“However, I can say they’re overseas. You sell it to the international buyers, it leaves U.S. soil immediately, no trace back to you.”

Forty seconds.

“I already have international buyers, so, uh, it’s not an issue.” Cocky bastard was playing with me.

 _What the fuck?_ Fifty-five seconds.

“What else you got?” Moreau asked me and it was like a light went off.

“Who?” A minute, five seconds.

“Just like that?” Moreau asked, taking a sip of his drink.

“Who?” I ask through gritted teeth. One minute, ten seconds. _Hold on, Hardison!_

“Elias Atherton.”

“Done,” I said forcefully. Whatever it took.

Moreau looked over to Chapman who tossed me the handcuff keys. I dropped them right beside Hardison, and once I saw him unlock the cuffs, I focused again on Moreau.

“Tomorrow,” Moreau said right before Hardison surfaced.

I heard Hardison’s gasp for air and battled against helping him from the pool. I felt, more than saw, him take his place beside me, dripping wet.

“And what message I should convey to my employer?” Hardison asked.

Moreau laughed loudly. “I like this one. Glad we could strike a deal.” 

He stared aggressively at me and said, “Reminds me of Belgrade.”

Ah, fuck, he had to go there, had to twist the knife just enough to make my ass pucker. If I thought I could kill him and still get Hardison out of here alive, fucking bastard would be dead.

“Come on,” I said to Hardison, already walking away, knowing he’d follow.

“I lowered the chair and sucked air from the pneumatic. It gave me an extra 30 seconds,” he told me as we moved through the throng of women. “That better be why you didn’t come and get me—‘cause you knew I’d do that, right?”

“Yeah, Hardison, ‘cause I knew you were gonna suck air out of a chair,” I hissed as we finally got away from Moreau’s girls.

“It better be why you didn’t come and get me.”

We were almost out the door when I heard Damien call out to me.

“Oh, one more thing.”

We stopped just outside the door, and I turned to Hardison. “Go on, I’ll catch up.”

“Naw, I’ll wa— ”

“Dammit, Hardison,” I growled. “Fucking go!”

He muttered under his breath but he walked away. I turned as I felt Damien beside me. He stood uncomfortably close, forcing me to look up into his dark eyes; he always used his height to reinforce his power, and now was no exception.

“How have you been?” he asked. “You’ve kept a low profile since you left me.”

I didn’t have an answer.

“I’ve thought about you,” he said huskily, fingering a strand of my hair.

I tried to hide my revulsion as the memories flooded over me. My slow rise from standing guard to personal guard to head of security. I’d done the dirty jobs, the jobs he trusted to no one else, and with every successful job, I was rewarded. Damien was generous with his gifts, expensive watches, specially forged knives, beautiful women. They clung to the fringes of Damien’s life and when he wasn’t interested or cast them away, they filtered down to his men. 

I hadn’t realized that, all along, Damien had been slowly seducing me.

It started out simply enough; he had asked me to join him in his private bedroom. I’d been there often enough, reporting to him after finishing a job, informing him about security issues, but when he opened the door to admit me, I was surprised to see one of his women. Then I noticed they were both wearing bathrobes. 

That time he asked me to watch them have sex, that it turned her on. The next time, he told me to hold her down, that it was her fantasy. The time after that, she sucked my cock while he fucked her. It progressed from there, each time Damien pulled me further in. Eventually, I fucked her while he watched. Then he joined in the next time, taking her first, then turning her over for me. I wasn’t really connecting the dots as it happened until the night he slipped his fingers into my ass.

We’d progressed to fucking her at the same time, usually with him taking her ass. It hadn’t mattered to me, she was willing and eager every time, and each of her holes had their own advantages. 

This night, I had been in her ass, slowly and steadily pumping away when I felt Damien’s hand on my shoulder. He’d leaned in close and whispered hotly in my ear, “Beautiful.”

Before I could respond, I felt his slick fingers slide inside me. I froze.

“Keep going,” he’d said, and I hadn’t know what to do. I wasn’t _that_ guy. 

He wiggled his fingers in my ass and rubbed against something that made me see stars and I pushed back for more. I heard him laugh and realized I was lost, torn between **how** it felt and **what** I felt. 

It wasn’t long before he switched from his fingers to the woman using a dildo on me while he watched. I felt helpless to say no. He was Damien Fucking Moreau. He held all the power; I was just a nobody who could instill fear with my name and never left witnesses behind.

The night I turned up in his room and the woman was absent, I felt my world shift. That was the first time he fucked me. I felt like I was losing a piece of myself, losing sight of who I was. 

The next time Damien summoned me to his room, I refused to go, inventing work to avoid him. The next day, when I reported to him, I expected his anger, but instead he was calm and matter of fact. I stood up straighter, but it was too soon. 

That night he came to my room. 

He was concerned about why I hadn’t come to his room the night before. I didn’t know how to answer him. I was still confused about what he’d done. It had felt good at the time, but being taken like that didn’t mesh with who I thought I was. I felt ashamed, perceiving it as a weakness. 

Moreau comforted me, rubbing my shoulders, and I thought he understood, but instead he kissed my neck and slid his hands between my legs. I wanted to resist, but with every familiar touch, the pleasure grew, and I felt helpless and out of control against it. When he turned me over, I let him. I let the sensations overwhelm me, the sharp spikes of pain, the long stretches of relentless pounding, the craving of final release.

I felt humiliation fill me long after Moreau left me feeling empty and used.

In the morning, seeing bite marks and bruises on my skin, I felt anger, boiling red hot anger building up inside me, at myself and at Moreau. I could deal with myself later, but Moreau was an immediate, persistent problem. I wasn’t going to submit to him again, and I was sure he wouldn’t take it well if I told him to stop. I had to get away from him before he tried again and one of us killed the other.

My salvation came that afternoon in the form of orders to kill General Flores. I immediately took a small team to San Lorenzo to start surveillance on the general. Away from Moreau at my back, I finally felt like I could breathe again. My head was clearer than it had been in a long time. I spent long hours watching the general and nothing I’d been told by Moreau’s early reports seemed true. 

Flores wasn’t trying to destroy the country, he wasn’t massing troops for a coup. He was an honest man looking to improve life for his family and country. I started to reevaluate what I knew with what I’d been told. I began to realize that Moreau had ulterior motives and wondered what else I’d been blind to. And how long I’d been used to further his ambitions and increase his power by blindly following his orders. I felt used in every way imaginable and decided it was time to take control of my life. 

My first step was talking to General Flores and warning him about Moreau’s intentions. My second was to return to Moreau one of the very first gifts he’d ever given me, a .357 Magnum Desert Eagle with a 6 inch barrel. I hadn’t sent a note, my message had been clear. I would no longer be his man. 

And now, five years removed from that time, from that person I used to be, I was standing close enough to Damien Moreau to feel his breath on my face. 

“I’ve missed this mouth,” Moreau said, running his thumb along my lower lip.

“I ain’t that guy anymore,” I spat out.

Moreau laughed loudly and deeply. “You’ll always be that guy.”

He turned around and walked away, leaving me to wonder if I would.

I met up with Hardison in the hotel lobby, trying to figure out what I was going to tell the team. I had agreed to kill someone for Damien Moreau. Again. I thought I had left that man behind but there had to be some way I could avoid being the man again. I had left that life for a reason and now... now that I’d seen how things could be different, how I could be different, I didn’t want to be that man again. Ever. But... in order to keep them safe... to protect my team... my family... I would do whatever I had to... including kill Damien Moreau.


End file.
